


origin

by thyme (mars_lave)



Series: thread cutter [1]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Superheros
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-06
Updated: 2021-03-06
Packaged: 2021-03-19 11:48:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,169
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29874192
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mars_lave/pseuds/thyme
Summary: Arrie isn't powerful nor strong, they're also not a coward. They cannot back down when faced with overhearing one conversation they probably shouldn't have, they're thrown into a world where one mistep means certain death for not only you but anyone associated with you. They have to juggle a secret of an investigation gone too far, family issues, as well as the struggles of growing into yourself when it seems everything is pushing against their basic right to safety.[this is just me storing this story here for formatting purposes, it's not the best - feel free to read if you want but don't expect anything quality haha]
Series: thread cutter [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2196423





	origin

**CW: Vauge allusions to transphobia, implied child abuse, feeling that something is ‘under your skin’ [kind of]**

Acid and exhaustion clung to Arrie’s lungs, burning with each breath as they shuffled their way through the pedestrians. Bile ran down to their tongue, leftover from the dizziness of a new school and the blare of students chatter still ringing in their ears despite the half hour bus ride and subsequent walk. If you could really call this a walk, that was. The feel of the school’s toilet still felt sticky on their hands, a year-old medical mask fell below their nose, too big for their face. Somehow, they felt more confined bumping between the shoulders of New Ode residents instead of cramped in the barriers of a high school bathroom where whichever gendered stall they picked, they’d get weird looks. 

They were too tired for this shit, but they weren’t going to let a lead go due to pure exhaustion. It’d be worse left questioning what they could’ve done, guilt had a stronger stench than burnout. 

The man’s red-gray hair slipped around a corner, he was all broad shoulders and sharp angles, only a couple inches taller than their 5’4 inches but large enough to tower over them. His muscles bleared through his too-tight shirt, he could flick them and they’d probably be sent flying. 

He blended into the crowd, it was a talent of his, they’d admit that. They hadn’t noticed his watching until three weeks of his eyes digging holes into their and Cory’s shoulders. Though, to be fair they were a bit distracted with the constant nagging of a hyper toddler. 

There were few reasons to be stalking a toddler, none of which were positive in any sense of the word. Fewer reasons why Arrie found themself chasing after a potential predator. Options were limited, Alita, Cory’s mother, probably wouldn’t take the hunch of her 14 year old babysitter too heavily. Not like she could do much about this either.

And explaining their reasoning could get Cory harmed further. Or them, frankly for keeping it quiet. It’d been July, they’d come to find Cory grumpy and Alita rushed. The day was a mess, a blur, all they knew was that they’d snapped at him and the next moment their arm was pinned down by ice. 

They couldn’t explain it entirely beyond vague forum posts they’d scavenged with Cory on their lap, head buried in their chest and tears freezing before they could fall down the toddler’s checks. They were deemed rotten on the hands of anyone other than a hero, for they were rotten enough that the supernatural was the least of their revolt. The origins of them were iffy, though most notable records of them were held in the hands of terrorists. Or villains, as such criminals with abilities were dubbed, something out of fiction and spoken of as if it was. They were told to be corrupted, digging its way into people's souls and speaking thoughts of violence like some evil spirit. Rumors were baseless given the only real research was locked tightly in the hands of such rich heroes, powers were for the mighty. Anyone  _ simple _ with them were wrong, were villains, there was no such thing as a powered civilian.

They couldn’t look Cory in the eyes and tell him of this impossibility, of how he wasn’t  _ supposed _ to be like that. Couldn’t repeat words they’d heard too many times already, so instead it was their secret. Protected and covered from anyone. They weren’t sure how he’d kept the secret, he was young, but the weight of it must have transferred somehow. Or maybe he had and Arrie had been too comfortable in the security of his safety, he was a  _ child _ , of course he’d want to tell someone of this supposed impossibility he could wield. Children always seemed longed to stand out in the crowd of identical voices and faces, all squishy and unknowing.

They’d had a few incidents outside of just the home, outside of the security of privacy. Once when it had been hot and ice creaked up Cory’s arms, not to his own accord. Another similar events. They should’ve protected him better, stopped that - somehow - and now someone had been stalking them. It’d be easy to feign a lack of reasoning, that the man was just another parent or it was just coincidences.

If they succumbed to the expectation of incapability, they’d never move forward in life. Never be worth any good. It would be giving up, they weren’t strong enough to fend him off if he decided to take any action besides just watching them whenever they left Alita’s apartment.They thought so, at least. The self-defense classes they took in the fifth grade wouldn’t really hold up.

It was possible that this endeavour would only lead to more problems, Arrie would be anything but a coward. It was too late now, anyway, they were probably 15 minutes away from their second bus stop and 40 from home. He turned another corner, flitting underneath a construction on the sidewalk.

Arrie stumbled underneath, cowering in the newfound dark. He kept moving, it was a common route given his ease when maneuvering around this city. All of it was new to Arrie, they’d never wanted nor planned to go outside of wherever strictly necessary. Just really their school was outside of their neighborhood. 

There was no need for them to venture otherwise, it’d be an inconvenience and risk given again, their lack of self defense skills. Being able to throw a punch didn’t mean much if who you landed on was a foot taller than you.

He changed course rapidly, Arrie jerked forward and followed him into a car park. The lights flicked off for the most part, fluorescent beams showered down on gray concrete and off the roofs of maybe ten or so cars.

Arrie leaned against the wall before slipping in, making sure to align their steps with his so he wouldn’t notice the second pair of steps following him. He stopped at a bright red car, a color just as artificial as his hair. Nervous energy coiled up their gut, Arrie dropped down behind another car, it was grey and had a large scratch across the windshield. 

They pressed their legs to their chest, their jeans crinkled slightly at the movement. Peeking over at him seemed like a dangerous concept given their precarious position. He sighed, heavy and loud. 

The car’s door, the one he was besides Arrie guessed, slammed open. Arrie glanced over briefly, heart racing, he was digging through the front seat before pulling out a manila folder and pawing through it. 

More footsteps sounded across the garage, they pulled themself behind the car. No risks.  _ Why were they doing this again?! _

“You done?” someone asked, voice cool and monotone. It reverberated across the empty walls of the garage. 

“What does it look like?” Another voice, somewhat familiar. The stalker, they guessed. He paused, then sighed, “Yeah, here,” the papers in his hands shuffled around.

Arrie pulled out their phone from their hoodie pocket with a shaking hand, using the sound of their conversation as an opportunity to get away with small noise. With a click, they turned on the record button.

They peeked over the car again, feeling the risk was a minimal one at this point with both of them probably distracted with the current conversation. The other person was tall, hair similarly orange and falling past their neck, it fell upon a bright jacket tucked over a black turtleneck. A cigarette hung from their lips, adorned with lipstick that smudged upon the paper of the it.

The man handed over a few of the papers to them, they read them over swiftly, squinting, “These are just names,” they crumpled up the papers in their hand, much to the man’s dismay. He reached out, hesitant, his face twisted into something of annoyance and sadness.

“They’re important,” he insisted, pulling his hands to his side.

“I didn’t ask for names, I asked for results,” they threw the paper to the ground and twisted their heel against the paper, “What you’re giving me is unfinished work. I’ve given you  _ months _ , it isn’t that difficult.”

“My prices are low, therefore my work takes  _ time _ ,” he huffed, eyeing the way the paper was dirtied by the dirt beneath their shoe, “If you wanted quick results, you should’ve hired someone who charges more than 1k for five.”

Arrie pressed closer to the side, feeling a bit ill with presumptions and fear at the conversation topic on hand. Just a pawn, the other one seemed the larger threat. He could still hurt them or Cory, though.

“I still paid you for it,” they shrugged, “Get them to me by Friday.”

He sputtered over his words, “That’s not possible -”

“Should’ve thought about that,” they took a puff from their cigarette, “I’ll be paying you in debt and your name blacklisted if not. They better be young, I can’t work with anyone older than thirty, they’re too set in beliefs by then.”

“I’ll get it,” the man snapped, “Them, I mean. Five, right? I can manage it.”

They took out their cigarette, breathing slowly, “Don’t do them all at once, I don’t have the space nor energy for that shit. Wednesday and Friday. I won’t take kindly to anything less.”

Arrie leaned forward, phone gripped so tightly in their hand that they could feel their sweat slick off the case. God, he was watching Cory. Was he - was he one of the ‘them’ they were discussing? They couldn’t think straight, panic running thick and steady through their veins and up their throat, choking their throat.

They pressed themself against the car, trying to get a hold on themself. They’d achieve nothing in mindless fear, their brain wouldn’t accept such logic, only flashing various images of Cory being ripped from them, Alita crying,  _ their fault.  _ Ignorance wasn’t only blissful but blameless, it could mask them in a blur of innocence to others and themself. An excuse to guide them with. 

They felt awfully small and weak, curled up behind a car with breaths short.  _ Calm down _ . They’d figure this out, they couldn’t allow themself any other options. Weakness was a delusion people told themself to to excuse apathy, a lack of power couldn’t dictate how loud they could push. 

Arrie pushed a hand over their mouth, willing themself to hush and hold on a bit longer. Taking it one step at a time, they couldn’t plan ahead with nothing to land on. It wasn’t hard to discern their exact motivations -  _ they could still be wrong, it could be paranoia. Some mistake they’d made too caught up in the worst possible situation - _ they wanted someone  _ young _ and the man had been stalking Cory for the past August. What else would it be if not something to watch out for?

“I get it, christ,” the man muttered, his attempt at casualty failed to hide the waver in his voice. 

“Alright, go, be free,” the person sighed, “I don’t want to see your face any longer.” There were a couple of footsteps and then nothing but the flow of both their breathing. Fuck,  _ fuck, _ what did they do with this information? How could they protect Cory when they could barely protect themself?

Arrie closed their eyes, trying to block out the panic, choking it’s way up their throat in the form of bile. Their body neglected to note the difference between physical illness and the rush of a strong emotion. They fumbled, phone falling to the floor and slamming against the ground.

_ Fuck _ .

The other person’s breath hitched, “The hell was that?”

Arrie crouched still, picking up their phone slowly. They slowed their breathing, any slight sound could get them found out. 

“Hey!” the person yelled out, footsteps smacking against the ground, coming closer and - Arrie scrambled up, pulling their mask over their nose and throwing their hoodie over their head in a quick motion. They were already screwed, better prepare themself for a fight in advance. “You!”

Them, and again for emphasis,  _ fuck _ , “I got lost,” they managed to spit out, their mask felt like a muzzle, words hard to manuever from their throat and tongue, “I thought there’d be um, someone in here that could help -” the best lies were based in truth, “-And - and then you started to talk so I just hide because -”

The person smiled slightly, “Calm down, I’m not going to hurt you. Let’s have a chat, that’s all.”

“A chat?” Arrie held themself tense, “I think - I can just leave..?”

“Nah,” they walked closer, cornering Arrie, “Stay here,” they stopped close enough that Arrie could make out the beginnings of wrinkles forming in the creases of their quiet smirk. They took a puff from their cigarette, the smoke burned Arrie’s eyes and they cringed back. The person gripped onto the collar of their hoodie, “ _ Calm down _ ,” a laugh slipped from their throat, “So, what’re you really here for? Don’t lie, you’re not that good at it, that was an admirable effort, though.”

“It’s not a lie,” Arrie’s words were choppy, stunted, almost, “I just got lost.”

The person tugged down their faulty mask, Arrie tried pulling away again, they grabbed at their chin, holding them still, “I said not to lie, didn’t I?” They fumbled with their cigarette, bringing it up to their fingers again and  _ pressing _ it against the skin above Arrie’s jawline. 

Fire burned beneath the threads of Arrie’s skin, a yell crawled its way up their throat, eyes burning further and tearing up at the sheer pain that came from such a small object. The person didn’t let them go despite efforts, holding the cigarette there.

“Tell the truth and I’ll let you go home,” they muttered, their attempt at casualty was much more skilled than the man’s. They couldn’t focus - 

Arrie swung at them, the pain relieving for a brief moment when their fist hit the person’s face, causing them to stumble back. Arrie swerved around them, attempting to pass by in their momentary distraction. 

They crashed into the pillar behind them, the startling pain of slamming their head against the harsh concrete melded with the ever-raging burn on their check. Instincts were driving them, choking up their stomach. 

The person lunged forward, Arrie threw themself to the side, they fell to the ground. Arrie pushed themself back, grasping backwards. Their hands fumbled upon one of the discarded pieces of paper.

They were gaining on Arrie, Arrie forced themself to their feet, paper still in hand. It took them a moment to process, a moment too long. The person missed them by an inch, rage clear on their tan face.

Arrie pushed themself to their limit, trying to ignore the burn crawling at the side of their face. They managed to get out of the garage, taking joy in the fading daylight. The person’s shoes smacked behind them. They pushed through the crowds, not caring for politeness or social customs. 

The world blurred before them, sounds minimizing to simple babble along their ears. They couldn’t tell if the person was at their heel or caught up in the crowd, they wouldn’t dare look behind them. They got lost in the crowd, shoulders bumping and choking, then thinning out slowly as their stanimia began to wear thin.

Arrie sucked in a breath, stopping not out of their own will but desperation. They fell back, leaning against the side of a bus stop. Their vision was still blurry. They could make out the fuzzy silhouettes of pedestrians staring on at their frantic pace. No… orange hair, though. Maybe they just weren’t seeing it - they led themself inside the small shelter. 

They watched the shoes of ongoers pass by with a careful precision. The world seemed to reform itself around them, the fading sunlight caught across the tops of buildings they couldn’t recognize.

It was okay, they’d be fine, for now at least. The person probably had better things to worry about than an eavesdropper. Especially one they - hopefully - hadn’t been able to trail. Arrie swallowed, trying to push their nerves down. Reacting to the panic even further wouldn’t protect Cory, them, or hell, anyone else who could be caught up in this. They’d said five people, Cory was only one

They eyed the schedule lining the side of the bus station, they weren’t too far from home. Despite how far it felt based on appearance, they’d only really made it to another district of New Ode. 

Arrie pulled their phone out from their pocket, a crack ran down the screen from its’ prior fall in their panic. Arrie glared at it and flicked the screen on. It lit up, reading the time as 4:23 pm. Geez, an hour and a half. Dad probably wouldn't notice their absence until he got dinner so … they had around an hour to get back to avoid any questioning. 

They adjusted their backpack, it would take a bit of maneuvering and running but they could make it. The next bus came at :30. Arrie crouched down, taking relief in the small break.

The paper in their hand loosened, making itself known to Arrie once more. They’d forgotten they’d grabbed it. The names were typed on, it wasn’t the only copy. There were only about three of them, the last one was too muddled by the dirt to read. The addresses scrawled below each name.

_ Neil and Nina Diaz _

_ Tamara Prince _

__

_ Cory Sanz _

Fuck, Cory. At least it was some confirmation -  _ as if the stalking wasn’t enough _ . They didn’t know the others, was there some way they could warn them? Maybe google their names? It would be useless if all of them were as young as Cory. Their names were pretty common as well, they could scrounge all of Facebook for parents who happened to mention their child by name. It was a daunting task, especially given they wouldn’t be able to exactly find their home addresses from a social media page.

Arrie crumpled the paper and stuffed it into their backpack,  _ later _ , right now they just had to get home, sign the forms their teachers had given them earlier and pass out. They weren’t equipped for this type of stuff. They didn’t have a choice either. Call it moral obligation or desperation, they didn’t know, ignoring didn’t even feel like a shitty option to consider. 

The bus sped along, stopping in front of them before they realized so much time had passed. Arrie stumbled to their feet and climbed in. They passed the fare to the driver and sped to one of the seats. The bus was almost empty aside from an elderly couple and a middle aged woman.

Arrie leaned against the window and held onto their backpack, they’d have to be enough to save the others. No one was going to hurt, not if they could stop it.

  
  



End file.
